


lucky one

by MistyMoon



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: @universe give him all the good things, also ive had kyko's 'native' on repeat for the past two hours, he deserves all the good things, hope u enjoy suho being happy and just YELLS, i have absolutely no idea how to tag this, i should rlly go to sleep, im so whipped for suho/happiness ok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-15
Updated: 2016-10-15
Packaged: 2018-08-22 12:27:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8285849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MistyMoon/pseuds/MistyMoon
Summary: Junmyeon made a home in the place that lets him breathe, lets him leave Suho behind and let Junmyeon shine. He realizes just how thankful he is that he's allowed to be up on that stage, that he's allowed to be somewhere that makes him feel like he belongs, like he matters.





	

**Author's Note:**

> ILOVESUHOILOVESUHOILOVESUHOILOVESUHOILOVESUHOILOVESUHOILOVESUHOILOVESUHOILOVESUHOILOVESUHOILOVESUHOILOVESUHOILOVESUHOILOVESUHOILOVESUHOILOVESUHOILOVESUHOILOVESUHOILOVESUHOILOVESUHOILOVESUHOILOVESUHOILOVESUHOILOVESUHOILOVESUHOILOVESUHOILOVESUHOILOVE-  
> i love suho so fkcng much  
> this was inspired by a vine btw - https://vine.co/v/5Bpnu0XdLFY  
> and this is for @lawlliets on tumblr bc they love suho

Junmyeon felt like the luckiest person alive.  
He looked up, watching the confetti fall and wash over him. The crowd was loud, yelling at the top of their lungs, chanting nine different names he could easily recognize. He walked on the stage without having to look where he was going, having been there too many times to not have every inch, every centimeter, memorized. It was a familiar ambient, one he loved and cherished to be surrounded by, one he wanted to live in forever. He could close his eyes right that moment and still know where every member was, where every banner, every sign with heart-warming messages was. He repeated those messages in his mind, telling him they were meant for him, that they were real. That, whoever wrote them, loved him. They _loved_ him. Every voice he could hear made his heart beat faster, made his eyes start to sting, because it didn't feel real. Before they were EXO, before he was Suho, he couldn't imagine this. The idea was surreal, and it was just that, an idea; none of them could even begin to think what it would be to like to stand on a stage this big, with thousands of people around them, cheering for them.  
Look at them now.  
Junmyeon didn't think he belonged there at first; there was too much doubt, too much fear in his mind. He didn't think he was worthy of standing there. But time changed his way of thinking, the amount of times he was up there in the course of four years made him realize that, even though he might think of himself as not deserving, there are people who want him up there, who think he belongs there, who think he was born to shine under the spotlight. He stills, let his feet feel the smooth floor under his tennis soles, lets himself take in the lights above him, the music coming from the speakers, the sweet sound of Baekhyun's voice. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. He can't possibly get enough of it, get enough of this, get enough of the warm, almost suffocating air that reminds him of where he is, of why he's there. Can't get enough of the fans' voices singing along with Baekhyun, almost overcoming his voice. It all feels like a dream, like he's going to wake up at any moment back in his house, with his mother telling him to go get ready for school.  
He opened his eyes, chuckling when he felt confetti fall on his face. The sight before his was one he wouldn't trade for anything else in the world. He wouldn't trade the mountain of emotions that fall over him in moments like these, wouldn't trade the feeling of finally belonging somewhere in the world, of being important to not one, not two, but thousands of people. He made a home there, in the place where people would accept him, would support him and love him and let him be himself without judging. He felt like those were the moments he could throw his Suho mask away, could forget who he was, and be himself, be Junmyeon, even if it was only for a couple of hours.  
He barely remembers that the microphone he's holding has a purpose when it's his turn to sing. He can't register the words coming out of his mouth, can't hear anything besides the growing chant coming from the crowd. He stares at them, keeps staring even after he puts his microphone down. His cheeks are growing warmer and are gaining color, and his heart is beating so fast he thinks it might break free from his chest. There are words stuck in his throat, that he can't quite put together to form coherent sentences, but he knows what they want to mean, knows why they're there in the first place. Even though there are days he feels so tired, so drained he can barely find strengths to move, he still doesn't regret it. He'll never find himself regretting the years training, the moments where he felt like his body would stop responding to him if he kept going, because they brought him here. Brought him somewhere that warmed his heart, that made him feel like he was truly happy, like he was doing what he was meant to do, like nothing would ever bring him down. Somewhere that allowed him to _feel_. For a moment, he wanted to let the tears pricking his eyes fall, wanted to close his eyes again and feel, truly _feel_ , the atmosphere surrounding him. He wanted to appreciate this, to try and remember it vividly even after it ended. He wanted to stop time and just live in the moment for the rest of his life.  
The speakers went silent and when the fans started getting louder, Junmyeon wanted to bow. He wanted to thank _them_  for coming, for being there and reminding him of his importance, of how much he made other people proud, happy. They deserved the cheers, they were the ones who allowed him to follow the path he wanted to go through. He would never not be thankful for that, would never forget about all the things they did for him, for them.  
They were supposed to leave to get changed, but he stayed a few seconds longer. He stood there, frozen, looking down. He couldn't stop a smile from forming on his face, couldn't stop the tears gathering in his eyes from rolling down his cheeks. He had to go, had to follow the others, but he didn't want to leave, didn't want to abandon the warmth around him, even if for a few minutes. He felt like he could drown in it, like he could endure anything to make sure he would get to feel it again and again and again until he couldn't anymore. He couldn't imagine how he managed to live without it, how he got through years and years of not knowing how it felt to finally know where you belonged. He couldn't imagine living without it for more than a second.  
He could hear most of the crowd screaming his name at the top of their lungs, could already hear their manager being angry at him for not leaving on time, but he could only focus on the former. His name sounded so right echoing in the stadium, as if that had been its purpose all along. His heartbeat was so loud, so loud he could hear it clearly and he felt like if he died right there, he would have the happiest death anyone has ever had.


End file.
